I am married in a committed, open relationship that is the anchor of my life. I'm a former high school English teacher, former software technical writer, and graduate of the late, great public interest law school, New College of California School of Law. I'm now on permanent disability from conditions that have finally eased up enough for me to begin exploring the world, at least that part which I can access emotionally, with the recklessness of a teenager. An important part of my life remains my work as a counselor for tenants with legal problems. The rest of the time, I indulge in outrageous adventures in sex and love, which I occasionally write about.

A Week of Syphilis

A month ago, continuing my exploration of risky behavior, I hooked up with a guy from Craigslist. I refer to him affectionately as my Randy Old Goat, because he has more lovers than anyone in his 60s can be expected to keep up with. There’s the boyfriends, the other girlfriends, the wife, and now me. Randy is a sexual champ who admits it helps to be retired. He’s a smart and decent guy, who, like all guys my age or thereabouts, hates condoms, though he will use them. I’ve noticed that condoms can be an obstacle for guys in my age group, whose wood gets softer over time. The question is, which is more tedious, using condoms with all their drawbacks or performing the workaround—get an STD test, share the results with me and keep me apprised of all your contacts.

So Randy and I went to the San Francisco City Clinic, the highly effective, city-run STD clinic. I knew their reputation, and while both of us have health insurance, I wanted him tested by experts. Of course, I would have a test, too, but I had no worries. In spite of my (self-created) reputation as a wild woman, I’ve really had very few "contacts" in the last 20 years.

The clinic was orderly and comfortable. There were only a few people sitting in the clean airport waiting room chairs and one or two in the line to check in. I had not shared my fears with Randy, but I had half imagined something hellish like the waiting room at San Francisco General Hospital (crowded, everyone looking sick or crazy) but sleazier. Those other patients looked like us, only younger. I relaxed. Randy was less impressed. With his different frame of reference, Randy didn’t realize just how civilized the clinic turned out to be. Fearing a long wait, he suggested that we leave and see our own doctors.

While waiting, we discussed what we were going to say. I wanted the clinic to take us seriously as possibly infected individuals or they would not test us. I advised Randy to play up the boyfriends. I had my own, condom-free sex with a previous lover to report. I need not mention that he got tested first. I wanted them to find whatever they found.

I have dodged some bullets and not others. I caught a disease of junkies as a teenager. It was once thought to be sexually transmissible, but was later dropped from the list of recognized STDs. I see the fact that I can’t give it to anyone through sex as a gift of the universe to me personally. In the 80s, around the start of the AIDS epidemic but before the virus was discovered, I dated a bisexual man. Both he and his boyfriend participated in the exciting world of baths and sex parties. I got to play a little, too.

Back then, the cause of AIDS was a matter of speculation—too many drugs, too many infections, maybe a disease agent. We assumed that a strong immune system would protect you. People were getting sick around us, and we kept doing what we were doing. Later, after I had broken up with my boyfriend, both he and his friend became positive. The friend died. I never caught HIV. It seems ungrateful to be careless now.

We did not have long to wait. We were called into examination rooms and interviewed by nurses. We gave various samples. We were told to look up our results online the following Tuesday. We were told “If a test comes up positive, we’ll call you before the results are out.”

No one called by Tuesday, so I dutifully looked up my results online. No stress, no worries, all pro forma.

I was “weakly” positive for syphilis.

I sometimes wonder what it feels like to be one of those guys who gets busted by DNA for something they did 30 years earlier, what it feels like when the cops come to the door. I wonder if they think, “How will I explain it to this person, to that person? How bad is it going to get? When and how thoroughly do I give up?” I wonder if they feel the sudden skin puckering, blood rushing to hide, brain on pause feeling. I was frozen for a moment, stunned.

Then I started doing what I do—looking stuff up. I found the following dismaying information: the result of the VDRL syphilis test, stated the way my result was, could mean either a false positive, a former infection, or tertiary syphilis, that state of syphilis where you begin to sink into dementia. It seemed to explain some things, but isn’t that what you always think? No wonder I was tired. No wonder I couldn’t concentrate. No wonder I seem to lack the self-command I once had. My brain was being eaten by syphilis.

I thought about the contacts I could have infected. I thought about my husband and his girlfriend. I thought about my lover Blue, who had the foresight to get his own STD test before our affair. I thought about Randy, his wife, his boyfriend, the boyfriend’s wife, the other girlfriend, the one with a boyfriend. A hall of mirrors of sexual contacts.

My lack of self-control manifested itself in the need to inform all my lovers immediately that I was possibly syphilitic. I knew there was a chance it was a false positive, but I panicked at the idea that Randy might have sex with his wife. I knew, of course, that we had (most of the time) used condoms, that I had no oozing sore that could have infected him—in fact, I didn’t recall having a dramatic chancre sore down there, like the one on the syphilis poster at the clinic, ever—but I couldn’t take the chance. I imagined him leading his innocent wife to the bedroom and wanted to scream, “Stop!” I texted and emailed madly.

The next day, I tried calling the clinic but naturally, no one is ever available to come to the phone. I was losing faith in the clinic. Shouldn’t they have called me by now, even without my calling them? I called Randy. “I have to go back to the clinic. You probably shouldn’t come over today. I can’t have sex until I know. In fact, I may never have sex again.”

The unflappable Randy said, “Don’t be silly. I’ll go to the clinic with you.” I had refused my husband’s offer to stay home and take me to the clinic—I’m enough trouble—but frankly, I could do with someone to hold my hand.

Aside from a bit of head-butting with the receptionist, who seemed not to understand what I wanted, the visit went well. I was seen by a counselor within 15 minutes. He explained the possible meanings of the test result, which was pretty much what I had learned on my own, but more authoritative. I learned that the blood tests were only run once a week, so the lab was just then running the confirmatory test using the same blood sample. He offered to let me talk to a doctor.

If having syphilis that day had a silver lining, it was Dr. Joseph Engelman. Being in the froth that I was, I didn’t notice how damned attractive the man was, but I knew I was in the presence of an exceptional physician. He saw me immediately. He was in no hurry. I was the only patient in the world. He stepped me through the symptoms and progress of the disease and verified that I had no symptoms. He explained the thing that immediately made my claws loosen their grip on the ceiling tiles: almost no one gets tertiary syphilis. You take antibiotics sporadically throughout your life for various ailments and without realizing it, you wipe out the syphilis. Even if you have advanced syphilis, you can’t give it to anyone without the sore.

He also reassuringly explained that I was not in a high risk group.

“I was totally wild when I was young,” I said, failing to add that I was not much better now that I was a semi-invalid with nothing to do except mess around.

The doctor waved away my protestations of crazy wildness. He was not impressed. I guess at that clinic, I was competing with some real pros. But he remembered what I had said.

Last night, I checked online for the confirmatory test results and they were negative. Today I shot the doc an email, asking him to interpret the results. Had I had syphilis and gotten rid of it, or what? He replied that I had never caught it, even when I was “young and wild.” How does a doctor in a busy clinic remember the exact words I used two days earlier? A public health doctor who pays attention. The man is a saint.

So I’m left with the syphilis hangover. What the fuck did it all mean, apart from a lapse in protocol on the part of the clinic, who should have called me and told me not to panic in the first place? It might be over dramatic to say that I will never be blase about condoms again. I know that men in my age group are unlikely to give me a disease, even Randy Old Goats, as long as their contacts are stable and they take precautions. One thing I have never achieved is perfect consistency in anything, so why should this be any different? I seem fairly lucky at dodging bullets. Nevertheless, I can’t help but be more conscious of the condom issue.

The lasting impression is the chain of contacts, the feeling of being in bed with a half dozen people, most of whom I’ve never met. Not so much creepy as awe-inspiring in its connectedness and a graphic illustration of the responsibility I have, as a good sexual anarchist, to each of those people.

Years ago, I had a rash the doc was pretty sure was harmless but said I should get tested for syphilis, just in case. I said of course. It turned out negative, but what always stuck out for me was that the male phlebotomist hit on me while taking my blood even though he could see what I was being tested for! I guess he thought I was easy. heh.

OMG, i just came on b/c I wanted to check your salad recipe b/c it had thyme or something, I have a friend coming to stay with me tomorrow and am cooking dinner and wanted to make your dressing.....What do I find?????? ANOTHER Sirenita Shocker! LOL

I learn a lot from you even beyond salad recipes. Loved this and the goat sounds really cool!

Silkstone, I can believe it. My guys were remarkably sanguine about the whole thing. There's a lot to be said for being easy.

Ariana, I know, I know! But what are ya gonna do, they don't like them. If you have a fresh herb, I would tear the leaves directly into the salad. I use a pinch of dried thyme in the dressing because it's there. If I have basil or cilantro, it goes in with the leaves.

Another Sirenita shocker is right. Isn't it great though when you find out that things aren't as bad as you thought they were? I'm hoping that's going to be the case when I die; with any luck at all, it'll be like "Hey, this isn't so bad, this is actually pretty cool..."

this is a very, very brave post & I commend you for that.two of my "fantasies" about STDs in escalating order of fantasy (I know this will sound a little weird.. but then again, so did your post)- simple test invented like pregnancy test. doesnt require doctor visit- all STDs eradicatedre "false positives" .. you can look up the success rate of tests. doing it once is something like ninety-something percent accurate. but probably less than 99% maybe. two tests is pretty foolproof, taking the final result they give you. I would recommend one more test maybe and then go with that result.

traveler, it's not fiction but it turns out I don't have it. It was a false alarm, and how alarming. Nothing wrong with grandmothers.

nana, I'm hoping death is cool. It all depends on where they lay you to rest. I plan to get cremated, so I don't have the smell.

vzn, I think I'm done. The first test left the possibility of a false positive because the result was "weak." So "weak" plus "negative" equals negative. I wish they would all be eradicated, too. And thanks, I'm getting braver being on OS.

Yes, like the others, I gotta say: Be good, and if you can't be good, be safe, but I've got to give you props as a writer here, too. Great story arc - the guy, the test, the suspense, the "oh shit" moment, the "syphilis hangover", and then . . . "the feeling of being in bed with a half dozen people, most of whom I’ve never met." Brilliant.

oh, wow, girl. this gives new meaning to Six Degrees of Separation. another astoundingly wonderful post from you, love. your writing just flows. i can't read a post this long by almost anyone else! what a week you had. shit, girl. we have to find you a hobby. aside from this one, anyway. i'm glad that this shook you up and got you using condoms. i dodged many bullets back when i was a 'ho. many. but at some point, you have to think of the odds. i LOVE that randy went with you and that your husband offered to stay home and take you. wow, you do attract some very kind and courteous men, love, even when you're tramping around. lvoe love love and gratitude!!!

"He explained the thing that immediately made my claws loosen their grip on the ceiling tiles"

That line especially cracked me up. Way too funny. My own carousing has been curtailed by my financial situation, but I'm surprised how little I miss it. If I had health insurance, I'd have my testosterone checked, but since I don't I'll just continue using the saltpeter on my eggs each morning to keep my loins in check. My hand thanks me for that. (I kid)

This was a really well written post! I was holding my breath the whole time, sitting next to you and Randy in the clinic, so thakful for that amazing doctor. You painted such a wonderfully vivid picture of a pretty scary ride!

Your writing is too lucid to have been written under the influence of tertiary syphilis. Congratulations, by the way! Syphilis is the great masquerader. It's in the differential for almost everything. Please be careful next time you spend time with a rich, white, entitled Marin motherfucker. You're needed around here.

I don't exactly know why, but I really like reading about your sexual adventures. Sexual anarchist, I like that a lot. I guess as a woman in her early fifties who still thinks about sex a LOT I am just glad to know you:)

Geez,what planet am I on? I'm no prude and have had my share of bedroom and otherwise adventures, but I'm reading all these comments thinking, "Everybody's OK with this behavior?? You all seem to think it's somehow cute?!" You and this guy are both married yet screwing around like a couple of rabbits with multiple partners and NOT even being safe about it? The 70s are over, wise up!

Yikes, I can only imagine the feeling you must have had when you first thought you had syphilis. I still remember health class in jr. high and they grim pictures of tertiary syphilis. Eww. Glad to know you're okay. I read somewhere that people over 55 were contracting AIDs (don't know about the other STDs) at an alarming rate.

Owl, I think I want a t-shirt that says "If you can't be good, be safe." I might edit it to say, balance risk and life on the one hand, and absolute safety on the other. Naw, sounded better the other way.

Mamoore, it was a scary ride, though the really scary part only lasted for a day.

Steve, thanks for the diagnosis!

Teddy, lol! I loved "shit, girl. we have to find you a hobby. aside from this one, anyway." I didn't write in all the rules because it would be tedious to read, but I do have rules. They pretty much track the official rules. I use condoms unless I know a guy's STD test results. While perfect compliance is still a goal, I'm more conscious and better at this now.

Michael, I think you're just not that turned on by your hand. You've been together a long time, you wouldn't want to lose it, but the spark is gone. Now a woman might be a whole other story...

Kathy, thanks for reading. I do seem to do this thing with scary titles. I was scared myself, although I knew I could not have an active, contagious case. I guess the story is in the reflex fear that such things pack.

Caroline, thanks! I mean it in the sense that I have to figure out my own rules or adopt the rules of a subculture, because the rules of the larger society make no sense to me.

Cat, thanks, I changed the phrase to "San Francisco General Hospital." Funny, I never thought of that. I'm sure the TV show had a bunch of well behaved, middle class folks with heart attacks, instead of our psych admits and gunshot wounds. You know, I think you survive most things, until you don't.

Lisa, thanks, and you're the perfect age to be a sexual anarchist!

femme, he's a good marin mofo. It's really a joke. Marin is the US's second richest county, but Randy moved there before it was prohibitive. He's a good egg.

Joseph, as for being safe, as I explained, I use condoms until I know a guy's STD status. This corresponds to safer sex guidelines (no one says "safe sex" officially anymore). As to being married to other people, see my June post, "Why I Hate Monogamy." I won't rehash that here, except to say that I am in a non-monogamous marriage and I let other people be responsible for their own marriages. I do not enforce monogamy on anyone, though I feel it's my responsibility to not do things that impact other people's spouses, such as give them STDs, drain the family cash, or create embarrassing dramas. Your rules are not my rules. My rules may be a work in progress, but I already know your rules don't work for a large number of marriages and lead to drama and divorce.

I think people are ok with what I write about my behavior (though it doesn't describe their own behavior) to the extent that they see consistency, honesty and an attempt, if imperfect, to find a new ethic of sexual relationships. This is not the same as the freewheeling 60s, 70s, and early 80s, which was an era of no rules. There need to be rules. I just don't find the conventional rules to be much guidance.

In college, I studied linguistics and learned the descriptive, rather than prescriptive, approach to language studies. That principle stuck with me for life, as a teacher, as a technical writer, during my stint as a sex counselor, and in my own sex life. The issue is not what the ostensible rule is, it is how people really behave and how to shape that into something nontoxic.

I'm one who eschewed condoms. I've always been careful with partners. But I had patients and friends die from AIDs; I know of some who had tertiary syphilis. I thought I was well informed. This post has opened my eyes. But your posts always do.... Thank you... ~R~

Tink, whaddaya gonna do? They had Columbus day off and were behind. Anyway, I got a post out of it.

Chuck, damn, you know someone with tertiary syphilis? That must be scary. You never know anything for sure, but being around the AIDS epidemic, you get to realize that people with infections do not necessarily look like skanks.

This was outstanding, as are all of your posts. I don't know why anyone would be shocked that people in our age-group would have a sexually active life either now or in the past. Didn't we invent sexual libertarians...or whatever we are?

I know what you mean about the condom thing and dodging bullets, they didn't even require condom use at the brothel...talk about dodging bullets...I still have no idea how I managed to avoid the STD's, but I am grateful.

I do feel for the poster who came here looking for a recipe. I think I'm going to have to go back and read more of you. I certainly missed something. But loved your story, glad for the "positive" ending and do stay safe (any tips at "our age"?)

Buffy, I'm quite sure we invented sexual libertarianism. Or re-invented it. I remember your brothel posts and how you had to look at the penis and see if it and the pre-cum looked healthy. I think that's one way that you avoided STDs. That's something they don't teach in sex ed.

trilogy, good to see you. My sex posts are "Why I Hate Monogamy" and "Craigslist Guys." Although it seems all I write about is sex, it's really just those. I think to stay safe you have to use condoms until you know someone well enough and find out their STD status. I've been pretty successful at getting guys to be tested for STDs, but you can only rely on that if you have an actual relationship. Anything new, you need to use the condoms.

My advice to anyone having sex, whether it's with their spouse or a one night stand, is to communicate and to be non-judgmental. People won't tell you stuff if they know you'll react badly. I usually have a conversation with a new lover that goes, "as long as you're not doing kids, I'm cool with whatever you do." Tends to elicit a lot of interesting, often hot, history.

funny. i'm in sf at a hot party as i read this. i've been offline for a long time and look what i find. i went through this at one time. if my wife hadn't been fucking another guy i probably wouldn't have. it's a lot of work. i really didn't have the patience for it then and have even less now that i'm single. is it all worth it just for a fuck? i think i'll go read a little more of John Stuart Mill's autobiography. i'm learning from you sirenita, but learn more from him that i can cause trouble with. hugs, bs

Ben, that John Stuart Mill is a big troublemaker. Whether it's worth it really depends on how much you want a fuck and how much of you is engaged by it. I feel about food the way you feel about sex. I love a good meal but I could just eat eggs all the time and not pine for new taste adventures like a true foodie.

You scared the hell outta me, Sirenita my dear. I'm so glad you're okay. Please, please, push for condoms. Or female condoms, if that makes it easier. Your health is so much more important than someone's ego, dear.

And please understand my pushiness comes from a deep concern for you. Take good care.

im not shocked. I am awed by the poetic and interesting way you put it all.I wish that my ex husband have that blood puckering brain pausing moment the son of a bitch... that he wakes up one day and realizes that he ruined my life and god only knows how many other peoples lives.I swear by condoms.. dont have sex with out them. Ive been as good as I can be with taking my pills.. god knows some mornings are harder than others do to not having a place to keep them that isn tout of the way bc of lack of space in this tiny place.. but Im good and I warn people first so... high five for sirenita lake.. you are definetly awesome in my book

I find you so facsinating and so foreign compared to those that I know. No matter how much fun taking off my clothes would be, I would be so fearful of the thing your post was about....not to mention aids. Last week I rapelled down a 110 foot cliff. That's my exciting activity for the month! :)

[NOTE: I tried posting a comment here, but apparently it didn't post. If this ends up being a duplicate posting, my sincerest apologies].

I lost - rather shared my virginity with an acquaintance at a time when "venereal disease" was considered a joke at best and a major inconvenience at worst. Things being what they are now, I'm learning to adjust.

I'm by no means crazy about using condoms, but sex with a condom on beats the alternative (i.e. no sex at all save for the solo kind). The saying goes that wearing a rubber while having sex is like showering in a raincoat. That saying hails from a time when condoms were thick, heavy white things which made sex feel like you were carnally knowing a bicycle innertube. Modern condoms are markedly better, though make no mistake, they do still take some getting used to (more information here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lsKuD5x5Law - of course you know this subject is NSFW). But in any case, when it's raining plutonium, you wear a raincoat!

Hi Christine. Thanks for taking the time to read. Getting tested for STDs is incredibly careless? Or having sex? It sounds strange to me, to be so solicitous of your body that you think sex is a threat. I live with pain and disability, and I have real things to be afraid of. I'm open to joy and fulfillment, not spurious fears. If you have sex, you juggle condoms and STD tests and trust--try to get it right--then let go, lie back and enjoy.

The only thing I every caught was Herpes II, which is the STD gift that keeps on giving... Now I'm kind of grateful that my wood's gone kid of soft and that I'm so low on testosterone that pursuing any sexual partner beyond my left hand doesn't seem worth the bother... not that I'd turn down an invitation from you. R&R